Chapter Forty: The Resurrection of the Dead

As King Uther spoke, the crown, slightly smaller than the monarch's, settled upon Arthur's head. The entire hall erupted in genuine applause; for them, this signified a new focus for their loyalty, ensuring their covenant with the royal house would endure.

Uther watched Arthur stand, noting that the boy now stood taller than him. A smile of relief graced the King’s face, filled with the pride of a father seeing his son come of age.

Arthur rose and acknowledged the room. Everyone who met his gaze bowed in submission and respect, Kay being no exception. Merlin and Gwen, standing at the back of the crowd, whispered jokes about Arthur’s sudden change in status.

Perhaps emboldened by his new position, Arthur cast a deliberate, teasing glance back at Kay after seeing the knight bow. Kay knew exactly what the boy was up to, but in such a solemn setting, he knew better than to act out, so he simply bowed again.

Arthur found the previously tedious investiture ceremony suddenly quite entertaining—at the very least, it was satisfying to see the indomitable Kay bow to him.

Just as Arthur prepared to tease him again, Kay’s expression shifted, and he lunged forward.

Arthur was terrified; he had only meant to joke, not expecting Kay to charge at him.

Kay’s sudden movement drew the attention of many, particularly the staunch royalists who feared any threat to the royal succession above all else. To them, Kay’s sudden outburst looked like an attempt to disrupt the prince’s investiture, a move they considered an intolerable act of treason.

But Kay moved too quickly for them to react. It soon became clear, however, that he was not there to disrupt the ceremony.

Kay reached Arthur, shoved him behind his own frame, and stood in a defensive stance with both swords drawn.

*Clang! Crash!*

The moment Kay assumed his guard, the massive stained-glass window on the side of the hall shattered. A knight clad in black armor, mounted on a massive black horse, burst through the wreckage into the great hall.

The Black Knight radiated such oppressive power that the candles, which had been burning as bright as day, began to flicker and dim.

Only then did the other knights snap to their senses, drawing their swords to shield Uther and Arthur.

The Black Knight made no other move, simply guiding his horse slowly toward the King and the Prince. He held a lance topped with a black banner depicting a white phoenix with outstretched wings—the same emblem emblazoned upon his shield.

The heavy thud of hooves echoed through the hall. The crowd was bewildered; they could not fathom who would be bold enough to disrupt the Prince’s investiture.

Five paces from the King and Prince, the knight halted. His helmet was thick and scarred, clearly having survived countless battles. Its design obscured the knight's eyes entirely; through the visor, one could see only a silent, impenetrable darkness.

The knight tilted his head, seemingly surveying the room, before fixing his gaze on Uther. He then removed his iron gauntlet and cast it to the floor.

A challenge.

***

Kay narrowed his eyes at the knight, suddenly sensing a wave of boundless malice. More chillingly, he could detect no trace of life within the intruder.

As Kay pondered his next move, Arthur suddenly broke free from his protection, reaching down toward the gauntlet.

"Don't!" Kay shouted.

But before he could pull Arthur back, a young knight from the crowd stepped forward and snatched the gauntlet from the floor.

"I, Sir Owen, accept your challenge!"

"Damn it!" Kay cursed in frustration.

He knew the boy well—one of the five knights he held in the highest regard. Talented and young, even younger than Arthur, he lacked the experience of a master, but Kay had believed he would one day become a great knight.

Like all youth, however, he was far too arrogant.

The Black Knight, seeing his gauntlet claimed, offered no reaction other than to declare: "Single combat. Tomorrow at noon. To the death."

With that, he turned to leave.

"Wait!" Kay called out.

The Black Knight turned back.

"The duel is canceled," Kay said, stepping forward with his blades in hand. "I shall take his place."

"What?!" The room erupted in shock; even Owen looked on in disbelief.

The Black Knight ignored Kay, fixing his gaze once more on Owen. "Tomorrow at noon. Do not be late."

He turned away, riding his horse into the night, ignoring Kay entirely.

***

No one had expected Arthur’s ceremony to end in such chaos.

"You shouldn't have picked up the gauntlet, Owen..." Kay sat in a chair, hands gripping the armrests, looking utterly defeated. The boy was simply too stubborn.

"Then cancel the duel!" Morgana urged anxiously.

"No! This is a matter of knightly honor. I cannot cancel it," Owen insisted.

"Enough! The challenge has been accepted; the duel is inevitable! It is the law of the Code of Chivalry!" Uther’s face was grim, whether from the ruined ceremony or something else, it was hard to tell.

"But..." Morgana began, but Uther had no interest in listening. He waved for Owen to leave. "Go and rest. Keep yourself in top condition."

"Yes, my King!" Though Owen had been fearful earlier—the Black Knight’s presence was suffocating—he had steeled himself. To him, backing down was far more terrifying than death.

Morgana looked at the young knight, her heart heavy with pity, and turned to Kay.

Kay understood her meaning, but shook his head. "I have already tried. Owen refuses to let me stand in for him. If he had agreed earlier, I might have found a pretext, but now... it is too late."

Arthur, who had been ready to accept the challenge himself, tried to find a silver lining. "Owen is a skilled fighter. Perhaps he..."

"Impossible!" Kay cut him off.

"Who is he?"

"Tristan! Once the greatest knight of all the Celtic nations, and my former master..."

"That’s impossible!" Uther rose, interrupting Kay. "He is dead! He cannot be alive!" The King’s voice was frantic, bordering on terror.

"You are right... he is no longer among the living," Kay said, leaning his head against the back of his chair, his voice low. "I feel no warmth from him. No heartbeat, no breath. Only the stench of death. It seems someone has called my master back from the grave."

"This cannot be!" Uther refused to accept it.

"It is all too possible. The sorcerers are capable of such things, my King. I know Tristan too well. His armor, his shield, his crest, his banner—they are exactly as they were when he was buried. And that oppressive aura... I cannot be mistaken." There was no use in denial. Kay had sensed it from the start, though he hadn't expected Owen to rush into the trap so quickly. "I fear we shall lose a fine knight tomorrow. No one can kill a man who is already dead."

Uther had known it was Tristan all along—the man was his brother-in-law, Arthur's uncle, the brother of the late Queen. Tristan was the very man Uther had slain in a duel years ago. He simply refused to believe the nightmare had returned.